


absolution

by hurryup, nea_writes



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen is dead and everyone was gay for him, Anal Sex, Angst, Grief, Hate Sex, M/M, The rarepair collab no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nea_writes/pseuds/nea_writes
Summary: This was a regression of the worst kind, and even Kanda could recognize it.





	

It was almost like the caress of a ghost.

There was no mistaking this - whatever this was. It was cruel. It was  _unseemly_. 

Allen Walker would hate it.

But it was like a sweet-tasting addiction that burned down your throat and set fire like acid in your lungs. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, a personal condemnation that felt almost like absolution when you lost yourself in it.

Kanda knew exactly what it was. He'd long since stopped fooling himself. It was an indulgence he'd never been able to afford and he'd already paid dearly once for his mistakes - twice was not an exception he could make.

He wrapped his fingers around blond hair and pulled hard - not to excite but to pain, to see the grimace and the wince as Kanda forced his head backwards, exposing his neck to Kanda's bitter touch.

"That  _hurts,"_   Link hissed angrily, and Kanda pulled harder, parting his lips to suck on a pulsing vein that he knew would hurt. Link sucked in a breath between clenched teeth, fisting his hands where they curled around Kanda's sides. 

"I don't care," Kanda said, moving up along Link's jaw before sucking on an earlobe that turned bright red in embarrassment. His hands moved over Link's body roughly, working him over and pulling the shirt from his body with an almost brutal intent. If Link wanted gentle, well, Kanda was real fucking sorry. Real fucking sorry he'd been reforged from teeth and hard edges. There could be no gentleness between the two of them. 

Maybe their only real chance of gentleness had gone and died, and they'd never get it back, and that was that.  

He leaned back up to observe his handiwork, pinning Link down against him between his thighs. The front of Link's slacks tented with the obscene jut of his cock. It drove Kanda crazy. Crazier still was that he matched it, that he was almost painfully hard while pressed up against Central's cold-eyed watchdog.

 _Not so damn cold now,_  he thought, almost satisfied as he watched a feverish blush crawl up over Link's face. Almost.

"You make me sick, you know that?" Kanda's voice was tight with either fury or arousal or some combination of the two. "Just  _taking_ it-- you're fucking hot for it, aren't you?"

"You're no better," Link said, with something so placid that Kanda was tempted to outright slap him. "You know well that we're the exact same."

"Shut up." Kanda's hands found their way around Link's neck, gripping his throat, thumbing hard over that flickering intake of breath. Link's pulse stuttered beneath his fingertips. "I am  _nothing_ like you."

Link rolled, flipping Kanda over with a sudden, almost jarring violence that knocked the breath from him. And maybe it was credit to how dutiful he could be, because he didn't say a word, didn't do anything but press his body on top of Kanda's and grind down against him; hard and needy and full of some detached fury Kanda could not name, but felt all the same.

Kanda practically shoved Link aside to reach to the nightstand of the night's shitty hotel. His hands closed around a bottle of what was most likely hand lotion. It would have to do, and if Link wanted to complain, he could be Kanda's guest - not like he'd give a shit either way. 

Link spread his legs above Kanda as he moved to finger him; scissoring him open with rapid, jerking motions. The sound of him, the scent of him was everywhere. Kanda jerked upwards to kiss him again, catching his bottom lip with the edge of his teeth and biting down until he saw the faintest pricks of blood.

Kanda was so painfully hard by the time Link was slicked open that his whole body seemed possessed by a minute tremble. Link gripped Kanda's cock with one hand, easing himself down onto it with short thrusts of his hips. He covered his mouth with the other hand-- and fuck, that was all the better, wasn't it? Not having to hear the breath-caught sound of him, not having to curse or gasp in time with him-- not having to hear him call Kanda's name in the wrong, wrong voice. He was glad not to hear it because part of him loved it, and hated loving it. 

Kanda shut his eyes tight, dizzy with pleasure as Link was fully seated. He let that feeling fill him up in place of the anger, holding onto the wash of it like something precious.

Link steadied his hand on Kanda's chest as he moved, biting down on his own lip, tasting the tang of his own blood. Kanda fucked up into Link, who cried out against his hand, riding down desperately to meet the roll of Kanda's hips. It felt hot and good and in that moment, Kanda could almost believe there was something beautiful about Link. Something he wanted to rip open and consume and use. Something Link used back. They used one another mercilessly to facilitate his own respective inabilities to let go. 

They'd never see eye to eye, but they had this. Had one another, in as laughable a sense there was. And Kanda, he had Howard Link, perched above him with his blonde hair falling over his face, with something like impudence. Kanda watched as he fisted his own cock as he met each merciless snap of Kanda's body with no tenderness of his own.

Link moaned through his teeth when the brush of Kanda's cock brushed deep inside him, reaching some part of him that had him shuddering as if he'd been electrified. His rhythm grew jerky, erratic; neglecting his own strokes in favor of chasing Kanda, chasing whatever sensation was building inside him. Chasing the same heat that coiled at the center of Kanda's stomach like a rising fire.

Link came first in hot spurts over his own hand and stomach. The hand that he'd kept pressed against his lips slackened and fell. Watching the open part of his kiss-stained lips, fucking Link through his afterglow. He wasn't long to follow-- it hit him at once, mindless and white hot and feeling perfectly like nothing-- finishing inside of Link, leaving him a mess.

For a long beat, they said nothing. The room was filled with the sounds of sharp gasps as they fought to regain their breath. Link still braced himself over Kanda, half-collapsed against him, and in that moment, Kanda couldn't be pressed to care. Then, with a near gingerness, Link moved to pull his body away from Kanda's.

There was something bittersweet in the loss of him, or at least in the warmth of his body. As he rolled over slowly to the side, looking for all the world well-fucked and properly beaten, Kanda found himself moving from anger to satisfaction and then back again.

Kanda was simple, and, shit, he wasn't ashamed of it. He moved in a straight line to his goals, never ceasing or hesitating. He was proud of it. 

This? This wasn't moving forward.

This was a regression of the worst kind, and even Kanda could recognize it. 

He was simple. He took pride in being a good fuck and giving a good fuck. But none of this was simple. It was insanity in it's ugliest form. No use, no purpose, a senseless repetition that brought no salvation to either of them except a temporary release that left them gasping for any crumbled remains they could find in each other.

Disgusted, Kanda sat up and away, swinging his legs over the bedside. He didn't do sentimental shit like unwinding and wrapping around each other, basking in a post-sex haze. At least, he didn't anymore. Maybe, he might have, but he couldn't remember. He wondered if remembering would really make any difference at all. With someone else, it might have - but that didn't really make a difference either, did it?

Link curled in, arms reaching towards the empty space left behind. Kanda held no desire to fill anyone else's shoes, and he sure as hell wasn't even going to attempt to step into Allen Walker's. That was a condemnation Kanda sought no solace in.

It was soft, quiet. More like the gentle fall of winter rain than any heartwrenching sobs Kanda could have expected - but, then, he was used to someone else's tears, wasn't he?

The words hung like acid in his mouth, and for a moment he was almost cruel enough to say it - almost so full of hurt and hate that he could spit those words out and ruin an already mangled heart. But he didn't. Couldn't. Already he'd been made too soft, like the ruined remains tossed to the poor and wicked. 

_Don't cry._

"Fuck," Kanda said, covering his eyes. This wasn't meant to happen. They weren't meant to fall like this, disgraced and dishonored. Kanda had thrown away his future for this attempt at redemption and it had failed, leaving him grasping for the salvation he found when his mind was blank with ecstasy. 

He couldn't even bear to look at Link afterwards. Disgust curled on his tongue thick enough to choke on when he saw Link curled up with his own self-hatred for warmth, coated in their mutual filth and sweat and smelling like each other. He could never scrub hard enough to get rid of it - it lingered, like the putrid scent of tobacco and wine that, inevitably, reminded Kanda of Allen.

Everything did, in the way grief consumed you raw and whole and mangled you with serrated teeth. There was nothing elegant or graceful or even beautiful in grief - it was mad like a caged beast desperate for the taste of freedom it knew in its veins. It thrashed under your skin every second of every minute of every day - it stole your sight, your taste, your very being. Everything and anything reminded you of grief and mourning and inevitably of the very person you sought to forget. 

Even Link did. God, Allen was written in every inch of Link - his stern eyes, his hidden blades, that long braid. Link reminded Kanda of Allen, and he hated it. Hated him. Both of them, either of them, it didn't even matter anymore.

And still, Kanda came back, because Allen Walker had died and left him behind and empty, hands holding a useless promise never to be fulfilled, because the one thing Kanda respected about Allen was the one thing Allen kept to. 

_If the Fourteenth should attack the order, I will stop him._

**Author's Note:**

> Feels by nea_writes and sin by hurryup
> 
> This was a goddamn adventure.


End file.
